driftfleet | first one to make that doctor who joke loses

[Yeah, he knows. That's why he wanted to come along.

Sorey gestures toward Mikleo's cleansing process with his respirator mask.] You're trying to clean up the local water supply?

Trying being the key word.

[Mikleo makes a half-gesture as if to call up more of the water, start again... then changes his mind before he even starts, lowering his staff instead.]

It's like trying to pull salt out of a stew. There's so much of it, and it's mixed so deeply... I'm not sure anything I do will change.

It has been like this for two hundred years, [Sorey agrees, sliding down off the rock and hooking Mikleo's mask to his belt.] Did you want to try it with the armatus? Maybe we can use the healing spell, since it's water-based.

I'd wondered if it would be any better, but...

[He shrugs his shoulders. It's not like he resents the help - regardless of their many rivalries, Sorey is his lifelong partner in all things - but asking for it feels a little like admitting defeat. It's pretty obvious that he still has a lot of growing to do.]

Well, as long as you promise to keep your mask on, it's worth a shot.

[Sorey gets it, mostly. Being able to do something yourself without troubling others might go against the whole 'Shepard' thing, but that's for him. He's a human, and he's weak without seraphim assistance. Mikleo might be a master of all water some day. Struggling to purify a single water source has got to be incredibly frustrating for him, and Sorey's pretty sure he'll never be able to understand.

Well, maybe he'll understand a little better if they try it together.] Promise, I'll keep it on. If it doesn't work, I'll just keep you company. Deal?

Sounds fair. Deal.

[He suspects the armitized form will be either equally ineffective or marginally better, but Sorey has a habit of surprising everyone, even him, so he's curious about how it'll work. Even if they can expand the range of purification with the bow, it could make a big difference in the long run.

And-- okay. It isn't very enjoyable to work at it alone. Even if all he gets is company out of the deal, if Sorey is safe, Mikleo's glad to have him here.

He allows himself to shift into energy and enters Sorey's body, waiting for his partner to get things started. It's the Shepherd's power, after all.]

[Once armatized, seeing the world though his eyes and Mikleo's, Sorey can finally understand some of Mikleo's pain over the state of the water here. Malevolence seeping into the land back home had been bad enough, nauseating even, but even while armatized all Sorey could see was something that could be fixed. As the Shepard, with his friends, they could purify the land and the people within it until everything ran clean again.

This...is different. This is a physical ailment completely unlike malevolence. The water itself has been poisoned, desecrated. How must Dezel feel, walking around in air that is so toxic it can't even be breathed in safely?]

Mikleo...I'm sorry, [Sorey murmurs, staring at the sludge spread out before them. He clenches their fist and calls up the healing magic, charging the spell. He'll let Mikleo cast it; he'll know better how to utilize it, where to lay its magic properly but Sorey can put all his strength behind it so Mikleo can concentrate.] I didn't realize it was so awful for you.

[There's an air of reluctance in Mikleo's voice when he responds, guiding the spell where it's most needed. Not that it really matters much- the pollution is everywhere, so the purification is needed everywhere. All he can do is follow his instincts and help where the world is closest to dying.]

"It's not like I told you."

[He hadn't wanted to. What would be the point? Sorey worries. He worries about everyone he cares about, when they might be hurting or in trouble. It's who he is, and it's why he has so much difficulty following Lailah's rules sometimes. Telling him how toxic the world truly is, how it's crying from every drop of poison flowing through it, struggling to keep anything alive, how Mikleo can feel that pain like it's his own- when it can't be fixed the way malevolence can? He'd just fret needlessly, unable to resolve the problem. All it would do is hurt him.]

"You can feel it now, right? The water's... killing this world."

[And that's what freaks him out the most. Water is life. It's something nearly everything needs to survive. The pathways through which water travels in any land - the lakes, the rivers, the rain - is something that so many living beings rely on. But here, all it's doing is drawing the poison out from its core and spreading it further. The element he loves has been turned into a weapon, and it hates it.]

It's not the water's fault, [Sorey argues, because it almost feels like Mikleo's blaming himself. A seraph's relationship with their element is a sacred thing. Sorey knows that Mikleo's always been a little tender over the fact that water is so much more susceptible to corruption via malevolence, and has taken exceptional care to purify sea creatures who had been transformed into hellions because of it.

He feels responsible.

At the same time it's hard to deny what they're seeing, what they're feeling together. The water itself is a poison. Mikleo's slow purification won't get him very far.] Let's just see what we can do. [And Sorey lets go of the spell, releases it into Mikleo's aim and pushes out as much as he can with it, pouring his strength into it until he wilts a little to the back, surrenders control to Mikleo for a moment.]

[Mikleo doesn't answer at first, his instinctive reply too volatile, not something Sorey deserves. He's trying to help, to soothe ruffled feathers and tense nerves, and he's not the source or the target of Mikleo's frustrations. It wouldn't be fair.

He focuses on the spell instead, drawing upon Sorey's added power to spread the purification across the water's surface, like a stream of arrows specifically targeting the chemicals. It still runs so deep, knife wounds buried to the hilt, life bleeding out with no known way to stop it. What they're doing is a tiny balm. Just a placebo for a water seraph who can't come to terms with his own helplessness.]

"No. It's not the water's fault."

[While the control is still his, he moves their shared body and crouches down, resting their hand against the damp ground at the water's edge. He can feel the pulse of the world around them, like a heartbeat, weak and thready, aching. That pain is practically contagious, but it takes a long moment before he can force himself to move away. It's fuel, it's incentive to keep going despite the futility. That cry of help, help, dying is one he hasn't stopped hearing since they arrived, and it's getting louder by the day.

Yeah, he knows whose fault this is.]

[Oh.

Even drifting softly into the background, Sorey's still got a front-row seat to Mikleo's emotions. Without the strain of casting and driving their shared body, he has more focus to spare on observing the emotions and feelings stringing between them like threads, and he picks the one that confused him, the frustration and anger. He'd been looking for guilt because that's a precursor to malevolence and Sorey's become almost a bloodhound for it, seeking it out in others, in himself to banish it as quickly as it shows so when he'd found something similar in Mikleo he'd been quick to try and assuage it.

It's not guilt.

Mikleo's not upset with himself, or with the water itself, or even with the planet. He's upset with the inhabitants here for poisoning it, for being complacent and allowing their toxic world to continue this way. He's upset with mortals.

Humans will bring ruin into this village! You must never speak to any you see. Don't even get close!

Dissonance rings between them as Sorey pulls away suddenly. He doesn't like to think back on what Gramps used to say; it's still a raw spot, still sore and tender like a bruise and he doesn't want to expose Mikleo to that when he's already so upset so he drops out of the armatization and stumbles back over to the rock to sit down.]

Edited 2016-04-21 06:12 (UTC)

[Mikleo isn't expecting it, so when he suddenly finds himself forced out of Sorey's body, the armatization cut short so unnaturally, he's too stunned to say or do anything at first. The last arte attempt drops him his fingers, wasted, and he stares down at his hands as if confused that they're his own for a long moment. They'd been longer, thicker, the skin a few shades darker, calloused and bruised from holding swords all his life, they'd been Sorey's, no, theirs--

He'd never done that before, never dropped it like that. When they split it had always been as natural as an exhale, as easy as armatizing itself.

Shaking off his shock, he glances back at Sorey, confused and worried. Had it been the pollution, or...?]

Sorey? What's wrong?

Sorry, [Sorey stammers automatically. He- geez, he had no idea he could even do that. After what happened with Dezel and Rose, he'd just assumed that any of his seraphim could control his body at will, not the other way around.]

Sorry, I- I'm just tired. [It's a pathetic lie, even for Sorey. He can't meet Mikleo's eyes either, fiddling with the mask. It's not as if they haven't disagreed on the topic of how much blame to lay on mortals before, but that was-

With the armatization it was...different.]

Edited 2016-04-21 15:53 (UTC)

[Sorey being tired so soon after getting started, after they've been warned repeatedly about the dangers of being out here, just drives the concern home even harder. Mikleo abandons all attempts at purification and heads over to where Sorey is sitting, crouching down to rest a hand on his forehead. It doesn't feel feverish, which is what he'd heard would be a warning sign, but maybe it doesn't progress that quickly.]

I knew this was a bad idea... you should be inside, it really isn't safe.

[Something about the way he said it, though, and the way he won't look up, bothers Mikleo.]

I'm all right Mikleo, [Sorey says, leaning back away from his hand. And he is, physically, which is what Mikleo's most worried about.] I don't feel sick, just- Maybe the uh, because armatization is weird. Or because we haven't done it in a while. It's all right.

[Sorey waves a hand and plasters on a smile.] You wanted to do it yourself anyway, right? I can just keep watch from over here and rest.

[Normally, Sorey would protest. Normally, Sorey would try to argue in mortals' favor, try to appeal to Mikleo's sense about how an entire species can't be judged by the actions of a few, can't be condemned for succumbing to malevolence when it's everywhere but that's not the case here. Here, it's pollution. It's something physical these people's ancestors did to the world, without caring about the consequences for future generations. Maybe the current inhabitants don't deserve the blame, but the past ones certainly do.]

[...That's wrong.

Mikleo hesitates, his hand hovering in the air between them for a moment before he lowers it reluctantly. Sorey's fumbling for an excuse, which means he's lying. He's always been terrible at that, and it's- it's been a long time since Sorey felt the need to lie to him. Since Alisha's pact, is the last he can remember. He'd lied to protect the people he cared about. Mikleo had known it then, too, and all it'd done is hurt in the end.]

...Why?

[His brows are furrowed, and the question has nothing to do with Sorey's words. Why this, again?]

[frick

Sorey's face sobers instantly. He could try deflecting, but all he'd do is make Mikleo mad. The idea here is to keep him from feeling terribly. Not to mention that Sorey doesn't want to dredge up old problems when their current one is so close and personal to Mikleo. It would be selfish. Besides it's a talk they've had before and it's a talk they'll have again. There are better times for it.]

Don't worry about it, [he says, and at least this is sincere.] We don't know how long we'll be docked. You have bigger issues to tackle.

[There's another long silence, as Mikleo stares Sorey down, his gaze conflicted, unsure of how to respond. Sorey's attempt to dismiss the issue just bothers him more, and not knowing the problem is equal parts frustrating and worrisome. Finally, he lets the hand at his side close into a fist and glances away. If three attempts at getting Sorey to talk isn't enough, then it's pretty clear what's going on.]

...Fine.

[He makes no effort to conceal that he's well aware of the obvious falsehood. He's not hiding that he's angry, either. And hurt. He doesn't press the issue, though- merely straightens up, turns away, and slams the butt of his staff against the ground, starting up another arte.

If Sorey wants to go back to hiding things from him, whatever. He can do this on his own.]

first one to make that doctor who joke loses

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